In Death
by sarahm17
Summary: Though ten years had passed, her death still haunted him.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Dark fic, deals with death and suicide. Inspired by Lord Byron's Manfred. I know the prologue is short, but the second chapter is much longer.

* * *

Blair had always captivated him - she was the perfect mixture of beauty, sarcasm, and deviousness. More than that, she was intelligent and much kinder than he could ever be. She kept him grounded and real. Without her he was lost; lost in the world and the darkness that attempted to consume him.

"You know, I was right," a voice said smugly.

Chuck turned around to see the familiar, albeit distorted, figure before him. He felt the bile rising in the back of his throat. She wasn't really there. She couldn't be. She was just a figment of his imagination. A ghost trapped in time, while he grew older. Ten years. She had died ten years before; leaving him as if it were her last slap in the face.

"You were always right," he finally answered.

Blair laughed softly to her self as she sat down, crossing her legs once she was situated.

Chuck's bedroom had hardly changed in the last ten years; in fact, the only thing different about the room was the bed spread and sheets. The room had stood still after her death - his shrine to a dead lover. The dust covered picture frames were still where they had been during their last fight. The sticky note that Blair had placed on the mirror the morning before _it _happened lay on the dresser in the same spot it had been for nine years.

"It took you long enough to admit it. Though, you're probably just patronizing me because I'm dead, right?"

"Blair, please…" he said, his voice uncharacteristically weak. He was Chuck Bass, he should not sound like some brokenhearted fool - like someone who had lost part of himself. But he had.

"_I'm not Chuck Bass without you."_

He shuddered. Chuck Bass was not supposed to be weak or reduced to seeing the ghost of his dead girlfriend. "Blair," he began to say, but she was gone. She never stayed. She would always haunt him, but never stay. "I miss you…"

The day Blair Waldorf was buried, Chuck stopped caring. Lily had taken over his hotel and other businesses. Lily made sure Chuck ate at least twice a day because drinking on an empty stomach would make him sick. Lily kept him alive, but not living. He couldn't live while Blair decayed in the cold ground.

Slowly, Chuck made his way to his bar, pouring himself another drink.

On February 19, 2015, everything important had been taken from Chuck - including himself.

* * *

Let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Gossip Girl because, let's face it, I'm a poor college student.

I'm really happy about the response this fic has gotten. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I **must **warn you that this story does contain death and suicidal thoughts. Again, this was inspired by Lord Byron's "Manfred." Enjoy.

* * *

Death seemed relatively easy - you stopped breathing, closed your eyes, and in a sense went to sleep. Death would have been an easy way out for him. He could just cut his wrists or hang himself, but that would be messy. The easiest would be overdosing. Just take a few too many sleeping pills. It would be the least painful, and it would work.

With death, Chuck could stop missing her, stop wishing she were next to him all the time, and stop hearing her voice telling him how wrong he had been. Because he had been very wrong.

Chuck staggered over to his bed; he laid down as his head pounded and the feeling of seven little men with hammers pounding on his brain overcame him. For the two years following Blair's death, everyone had begged him to leave the hotel. It simply held too many memories. But Chuck needed those memories whether they were good or bad. He needed to know that she had been real and that what they once had was real. He needed the pain as much as he needed the happiness that she once brought him.

"And remember that I love you."

Those words made Chuck nearly fall out of his bed as his body instantly tried to stand and dash across the room while his mind was focusing on headache. It was her voice. The sweet sound that made her seem even more like an angel. It was the voice that could make you feel as if you were on top of the world, or it could pierce you like a thousand knives. Nevertheless, he needed that voice.

"Remember, I love you."

Finally, his mind reached his body as he walked to the door, opening it quickly.

"Remember - remember - member."

Chuck was confused. Remember? How could he forget that she loved him? How could he ever forget what they had?

"I - I - I…"

When Chuck reached the front room, he found the culprit. An old answering machine. When he had first bought it, Blair teased him to no end. It was outdate and ridiculous, as she had said. And even though she had criticized him for buying, she still left him the occasional message (usually, to let anyone who was in the room with Chuck, while she was not there, know that he had a girlfriend). Usually the messages were sweet, or they were reminders. Once in a while, they were love messages.

"I love you."

He grabbed the machine, pulling the plug from the wall. Since he had bought it, it had never malfunctioned. Normally, Chuck wouldn't have minded hearing her voice, but he couldn't handle it tonight. Words from a dead girl.

"Poor sad man."

Chuck turned around. He was alone. It was silly, the television must have turned on in the other room. He was alone.

"Poor sad, miserable man."

He turned around again, believing his eyes must have been deceiving him. In front of him stood a beautiful woman. She was tall and thin with wispy blond hair. She wore a simple white dress and a crown of white and yellow flowers. A glow of bright light surrounded her.

"Who - who are you? How did you get into my room?" he demanded, his voice faltering at first but quickly picked up. The woman could not be real. She was too perfect, too beautiful...too glowing. He was a hangover.

The woman smile. "I have no real name. I have always been and will always be."

"Bullshit. What kind of an answer is that?" he asked. He was angry. Where did this woman get the gall to ignore his question and answer with some ridiculousness?

She moved towards him, practically floating - no she was floating. "I have always been and will always be," she repeated.

"You're a spirit?" Chuck asked, hardly believing that he would ask such a question. True he had "seen" his father's spirit (and his dead girlfriend - usually, he just attributed that to too much alcohol), but that was nothing like the woman before him. "Why are you here, oh great spirit?" Sarcasm dripped from his words.

"You wished for me," she replied, circling around him and sighing sadly.

"I did no such thing." He pondered at what she said. Had he somehow subconsciously which for this ethereal woman? After a moment of silence, he asked, "Can you make me forget?"

The blond looked at him as though she pitied him (Chuck hated being pitied). There were things that she could do and things she could never do. Telling the future? She could absolutely do that. But changing the past? No. No one could change the past.

"I can't do that. The past is in the past, it is unchangeable."

"That's unacceptable," Chuck replied. How could a spirit not be able to fix the past? How could she not allow him to forget. Weren't spirits supposed to be powerful? Weren't they supposed to help? If Scrooge could be saved, why not him.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Kill me then. Kill me right now. Let me die."

The woman set her feet upon the ground and walked over to him. She placed her hand upon his cheek. "I'm sorry, sad man. I cannot cause death."

"Then what can you do?" he asked, the bitterness apparent in his voice.

"Appreciate life." She chuckled. Life, something she would never be able to experience - something mortals took for granted. "Life is worth living, even in sadness."

Chuck pulled away from her. "That is easy for you to say, what do you even know of life? You float around my suite telling me you can't do anything for me. Leave. Leave now."

She watched him for a moment; slowly she began to fade from his view. He was lost, and though she could push the issue - it was not her place. She could not force someone to appreciate life. No. That had to come from within.

Once again Chuck was alone.

* * *

It was an hour before Chuck really snapped back to reality. The woman couldn't have been real, he had decided. It was the alcohol. It had taken a sour effect on him. He refused to believe that woman he been real. Spirits were things of story books, not reality. His life would never be a story book again.

_Blair stood in front of the mirror, her dress perfect down to the very last bead that fell in little strands from the bottom of her dress. It was the first real gala the hotel was hosting, and she wanted to be perfect._

"_You look beautiful," Chuck said, standing in the door way. "But then that doesn't surprise me." He walked over to her, a bag in his hand. "A present." He reached inside the bag and pulled out a velvet, black box. Inside was an intricate diamond necklace, beautiful and extravagant. _

"_Chuck," Blair said as she pulled her hair up so he could put the necklace on her. "It's beautiful."_

_Once Chuck had placed and clasped the necklace, he leaned in and kissed her bear shoulder. Placing his arms around her waist, he rested his against her. "You deserve it."_

Chuck finished the scotch he had been nursing. He could end it all. Who would blame him? He could end it all and be with her again. Chuck stood from his seat and began to walk to the bathroom…to the medicine cabinet.

_Knock, knock_

He groaned. "I'm fine; no need for anyone to deliver anything."

"Chuck," Nate said loudly from behind the door. "Come on, let me in."

"I'm fine, Nathaniel." A lie, but he seemed to be doing that a lot. He lied about being sad, he lied about being alright. Lately, lying seemed to be what he was good at.

"Chuck, if you don't let me in - I will break your door down."

He sighed. Would Nate break his door down? Probably not. If he did, he would get security to do it, but either way, he knew Nathaniel would get inside. "Fine." Chuck walked to the door and unlocked it. Opening it quickly, he looked at Nate. "See, I'm fine."

"You reek of scotch."

"How observant of you." Chuck leaned against the doorway.

Nate pushed his way passed Chuck, allowing himself inside. "Chuck, you need to go out. Come on, when was the last time you had real food. Or saw anyone?"

"I'm fine, Nathaniel. I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity, Chuck, I'm your friend." It pained Nate to see Chuck like this. He was always at his worst around the anniversary of Blair's death - each year becoming harder on him. "Chuck, we're all worried about you."

"Go home to your family. Give your kids a hug, read them a bedtime story, then go fuck your wife. Live your life and stop worrying so much about mine."

Nate stared at him for a minute. He couldn't see his friend anymore, just a shell of who he once was. "She wouldn't want you to act like this…"

"How would you know what she would want? You never loved her. You cheated on her…you always loved someone more than her."

Nate was angry - he had loved Blair, even if they weren't in love. He loved her as his friend. "You'd rather I would have married her and you never have her?"

"Yes," Chuck replied blatantly.

"She would have hated being married to me. I would have made her miserable. I would have given her kids that she would have probably resented because I didn't love her that way." Nate sighed. Blair may have wanted him at one point, but an idealized version of him. They had been kids then. "She wanted you; she wanted to marry you."

"But with you, at least she would still be alive."

* * *

Reviews make me happy. Also, I probably won't be able to update for a week or so.


End file.
